


The Touch of Legends

by TripleEternity



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleEternity/pseuds/TripleEternity
Summary: “What are these tattoos on your neck?”With Jonathan dead and gone, the threat to the Shadow World is diminished.  After a year as a mundane, Clary is steadily brought back into the world of angels, demons, warlocks, vampires, and more.  With the help of Jace, of course. Magnus and Alec are happily married and enjoying their life of love and unity.  Isabelle and Simon’s relationship has evolved into a thing of beauty.  But when a new foe comes to New York with a definitive dislike for Shadowhunters and a new sort of power, our legends must come together to defeat their rival and protect the world they know once again.Before they are torn apart.Now the Shadowhunters and Downworlders must join to take down not only this new villain, but one of their own as well.Basically my own continuation of Shadowhunters after it was cancelled.  This is meant to be a substitute for season four for me, and perhaps even you!





	1. Born to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovely readers!
> 
> I am very excited to introduce this story because it is different from anything I have ever written before. This is supposed to be a continuation of Shadowhunters to fill the hole Freeform left in my life when it was cancelled. I have only read the first three books (which I honestly don't remember very well) so any similarities between this story and Cassandra Clare's is purely coincidental.
> 
> If you like Malec you will like this story (though I'm not gonna lie, it will get rough), and there will be plenty of Clace and Sizzy as well so buckle up!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include homophobic language.
> 
> I hope I do our beloved characters justice.  
Please enjoy!

“What are these tattoos on your neck?” 

She brought her hand to his skin, delicately brushing her fingers over the marks that even she once had but couldn’t remember. Her touch tickled him, the feeling like what he imagined a graze from a ghost might be like. Even though the action was sweet and soft, he couldn’t help feeling like the wind was knocked out of him. After not being able to touch her for so, so long, the sensation of their meeting skin was electric, something Jace didn’t think he could live without now that he had a taste. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

“Clary… I--” 

“You know my name, too.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Something she somehow knew without the confirmation of the man before her. 

But she couldn’t remember. God, why couldn’t she remember? 

Jace had been hoping -- hoping with every inch of his soul -- that somehow their physical contact would bring back Clary’s memories. He had always believed that their bond was a powerful being -- more powerful than him, than any Shadowhunter, and perhaps even the Angel himself -- but it appeared this wasn’t meant to be. 

But Clary was _ born _to be a Shadowhunter, and she knew Jace’s name, which meant there was something there, an ember, a spark of her destiny she knew but couldn’t reach. 

And Jace knew that, especially now, he _ had _ to help her get that back. As her lover, and more importantly as her friend, he wouldn’t stop until she was back to the way she was before. 

After all, she had once said that she wouldn’t trade the Shadow World for anything, even her life as an art student she had before. 

Jace suddenly had a horrible feeling, one that brought pain to his heart and made him a little queasy. 

What if Clary was happy? What if he tried to get her back into her old life and she refused it? Just turned it down and walked away? Jace didn’t think he could handle that. 

What if she never loved him again? 

He shook his head, trying to get the thought out. 

“How?” Clary asked in what was only a fraction louder than a whisper. “How do you know my name? How do I know yours?” 

“It… it’s complicated.” 

“I have time.” 

“Do you, really? Don’t you have to get back to your gallery? What if someone wants to buy something?” 

Clary scrunched her forehead in thought, then a look of realization crossed her face. 

“You,” she said. “You were the anonymous buyer last week.” 

And he was, but he wasn’t alone. Of course, everyone had been watching out for her, despite the strict orders not to engage with her. The painting was quite large and must have taken half an eternity to create. It was an abstract display of the New York skyline at night, and was easily one of Clary’s best works. The Shadowhunters had decided unanimously that it would be put up in the dining room for all to see and remember what Clary had done to protect them and their world. 

Jace stared at it every day with a longing. 

“Yeah,” he said. “That was me. Well, it was a lot of people. Your paintings aren’t cheap, Clary Fairchild.” He laughed a bit, not realizing his mistake. 

“Fairchild?” Clary asked, and her face told Jace that something was familiar about that name. Something she couldn’t place, a bit like his. “My last name is Fray.” 

_ Shit. _

He opened and closed his mouth like he was a very large fish, eyes wide and panicked. Clary seemed to notice and brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing comfortingly. It was an act so pure and oddly intimate as she looked into his eyes. 

“Please,” she said. “I know you know something about me that I don’t.” 

Jace closed his eyes. He knew he would be in deep shit if he told her anything about her life as a Shadowhunter. 

But the heart wants what the heart wants. And although his training had taught him to always think with his head, when it came to Clary, that all went out the window. Because Clary _ was _his heart, and he knew he couldn’t live another day without her. 

“Will you come with me?” he finally said. “There’s something I want to show you.” 

She seemed to hesitate, but Jace could see in her eyes the moment she decided she would go with him. 

“Where are we going?” 

“It’s kind of a surprise.” 

She tilted her head and after a moment said, “I have to finish up inside, but after that,” she smirked, “I’m all yours.” 

Just the way he liked it. 

  
  
  


Alicante was perhaps the most beautiful city in the entire world, according to Magnus Bane. Maybe even more so than Buenos Aires, which had been his favorite for so many years that he lost count. He and Alec had gone there many times, and his husband agreed that it was indeed stunning, but there was a certain elegance Alicante had that was breathtaking and unique. 

Now that he was the High Warlock of the city, and Alec was the Inquisitor, between the two they had money to throw away (not that either of them would do such a thing. They weren’t animals, after all), and so they had apartments in multiple locations around the world. 

Alec had always had a soft spot for New York, though, and as it was important to him, it was important to Magnus as well. 

So they went there often. There were so many things to do that they never got bored. Magnus personally loved all the restaurants they could try, and was amused to find that Alec was a pickier eater than one might think. While Magnus loved a good medium rare steak, Alec wouldn’t touch something so pink. Magnus loved Mexican, but Alec thought avocados were disgusting and refused to try guacamole. 

But sometimes they didn’t really have anything planned as they wandered the streets, perfectly content to just be in the other’s company. They didn’t have to speak, usually just holding hands and exploring the sights the city had to offer. 

On that particular day, they stumbled upon a small art gallery that neither of them had been to before. It must have been new. 

Magnus and Alec, along with their friends who had been close to Clary, had visited her gallery many times, so they had become quite familiar with art and learned to appreciate it more. 

They even helped pay for Clary’s painting that now stood watch over them back at the Institute. 

As they approached the entrance to the new display of paintings and sketches, Magnus looked to his husband, already knowing he was thinking the same thing. 

“Shall we?” He gestured to the door, inviting Alec to take the lead and enter first. Alec smiled and ducked inside, Magnus close behind him. 

The works inside were nothing like what was at Clary’s gallery. These were just… amateur. Not very impressive. Some looked like they had either been painted by a two-year-old, or someone very, very drunk. Possibly both. Alec walked around, squinting at the canvases and occasionally tilting his head as if trying to get a better angle to determine just what the artist was trying to convey with the picture. 

“It looks like something threw up on his work while he was painting and the artist just said ‘fuck it’ and decided it was done as is.” 

“A perfect observation, Alexander. Very impressive.” 

“Like you could do better.” 

But Magnus loved a challenge, and so it was his duty to prove to his husband that he indeed _ could _ do better. 

Magnus had that look in his eyes that told Alec he was probably going to eat those words. He was dragged to the next painting. 

“This one,” Magnus started, and he took on a voice that was meant to mimic that of a tour guide at some fancy museum. “Was painted by my good friend, the long lost and forgotten brother of Frederick V of Denmark, who--” 

“Who the fuck is--?” 

“Please leave all questions until the end of the tour. As I was saying, he got the inspiration for this painting when a lone armadillo was left in his dining room unattended for too long and it had a fit and trashed everything. See this red spot in the bottom corner? That represents the blood that was spilt not only from the armadillo, but from the housekeepers who were responsible for watching him. Obviously the owner of the house wasn’t very happy. Now, moving on…” 

Magnus played this game for the rest of their visit, though Alec wasn’t complaining. He definitely made it more interesting, and even had Alec laughing a few times. By the time they were almost done and had gone through just about every piece, he had even attracted a small crowd, who were as equally amused as Alec himself. 

When they had circled around back to the beginning of the maze where the entrance was, the two of them turned to each other before leaving. 

“That was fun,” Magnus said. “I think I’ve found my true calling.” 

Alec chuckled and took hold of Magnus’s hands, squeezing a bit until Magnus met his eyes. They both leaned in at the same time for a soft kiss -- something they obviously did often, in public or not. They never really got any reactions from anyone and it was never a problem. 

That day included one of the only nasty and unnecessary opinions they’ve ever had. 

A woman nearby snorted and muttered under her breath something that sounded like, “fags.” 

Magnus turned to her and it was clear that she hadn’t exactly meant for them to hear her. 

“Is there a problem?” Magnus asked with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t nearly as pissed as Alec was. Maybe before he met Magnus he would shy away from such an encounter, but now? Now he would put down anyone who dared make such comments about him and his extraordinary partner. Neither of them deserved that. 

Alec almost thought the woman -- who was stout and wrinkly and overall unappealing -- would back down and not want to have this confrontation in a public space, but that wasn’t the case. 

“If you want to do that in private, fine,” she said. “But don’t try to infect anyone else by committing those sins in public.” 

The word “sins” was caught in Alec’s mind. He had dealt with this before, of course. It wasn’t always “proper” for a Shadowhunter to be gay, after all, but this woman was degrading his relationship with _ Magnus. _ Magnus, who was the most pure-hearted and wonderful being he had ever known. 

She wasn’t going to get off so easily. 

But before he could so much as _ think _of stepping forward to put this lady in her place, Magnus took hold of his arm, stopping him immediately with only a touch. 

To the woman he simply said, “Show your hate. We’ll show our love twice.” And he kissed Alec again, not caring who was watching. A younger woman nearby the nasty one, who was sneering now, was smiling and started to clap her hands. Some others -- who neither Alec nor Magnus had realized were watching -- joined in as well and Magnus pulled away with a smile on his face and bowed gracefully for the crowd, the very same people who had followed him around on his “tour.” 

They stepped back outside, leaving the woman and her negativity behind them, but Alec stopped Magnus after only a few steps. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. Magnus looked confused. 

“Why would you be sorry?” 

“Just… because I can’t change the world.” 

One corner of Magnus’s mouth lifted and his eyes shone with affection. 

“You change _ my _ world. Isn’t that enough?” 

Alec had to think about it. He had once said that Magnus _ was _ his world, and he meant it. So yes, he supposed, it was enough. 

“You wanna go home? I can make dinner.” 

Magnus’s eyes widened in horror, and Alec couldn’t help but laugh for about the fiftieth time that day. 

“Magnus, I’m kidding.” 

He let out a relieved breath. “That sounds wonderful. I have to feed the cats anyway.” 

With that, Magnus raised his hands, a portal appearing before them in an instant. Alec would never tire of seeing Magnus use his magic. It was fluid and graceful, and so very _ Magnus _. Plus, it was a major turn-on. He would never speak those words to his husband, but somehow Alec thought he probably already knew. 

They clasped each other’s hands and stepped through. After so long, Alec had even gotten used to the dizzying sensation he once felt when he made it to the other side. 

Their destination had been to go home, but that’s not what happened. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the pair stood right in the middle of Time Square. 

Alec looked around at the lights and buildings. Eerily and impossibly, they were the only ones there. 

“Does something not seem right to you?” he said to Magnus, who was as equally baffled as he was. 

“Are you referring to the fact that my portal dropped us off in the wrong location, or that this place is as empty and quiet as the dead?” 

“Uh, both? What happened?” 

“I’m not sure. I’ll try again.” 

He raised his hands once more, and a portal did appear before them, but instead of being that warm shade of yellow, it was red like spilt blood. 

“What the hell?” 

“What’s wrong, Bane? Do you not like my party tricks?”’ 

Both Alec and Magnus spun around to face the new voice. Before them stood a man who couldn’t have been much older than Alec. He had messy brown hair that reached his shoulders and cheekbones that looked like they could cut you if you were to slap him. Magnus couldn’t make out the color of his eyes from that distance, but there was still something cold about them. Magnus had seen many eyes in his lifetime, but none were ever this… lifeless. 

“I have more where that came from, if you’re interested.” 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really not.” 

The man didn’t respond, and for a brief moment, Magnus felt that he was looking into his very soul, reading his mind like a book. 

“Who are you?” Alec asked. 

The man’s gaze went to Alec. “Where would be the fun in telling you that?” 

“Fine, then _ what _are you?” 

The man stepped a bit closer lazily. He had an air of confidence about him that could rival Jace’s. 

“I suppose you could say I’m one of you,” he spoke, his voice as relaxed as his walk. “Only… better.” 

He raised his arms over his head and beneath Alec and Magnus’s feet, vines ripped through the concrete and wrapped around their legs, suffocating their blood flow and bruising their skin. Alec was hesitant to take his eyes off this newcomer, but from the corner of his vision, he could see the light of Magnus’s magic as he tried to free himself from the feral plants that now encased the entirety of the lower half of his body. Alec looked down briefly and saw that the same was true for him. 

Upon closer study, Alec realized something about the man. 

“You’re not a Shadowhunter. You don’t have any runes.” 

If the man’s expression was dark before, now it was as evil as the devil himself. But he didn’t offer an explanation. 

“What do you want?” Alec asked. Maybe if he could get the guy talking, he could work out a way to escape before the man was focused enough to do more damage. 

“I am a simple man. What do I want? Only for every Shadowhunter to perish as they deserve. Specifically you, Mr. Lightwood.” 

“Why me?” 

“You are the Inquisitor, are you not? I thought you would be smarter than this. You’ve disappointed me.” 

“I’m sorry,” he replied. He didn’t really want to make this man any angrier than he already was. Not when both he and Magnus were so vulnerable and didn’t know exactly what they were dealing with. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” he said with a shrug. “I know how to hurt you, anyway, foolish as you are.” 

“And how is that?” 

“There are many things, of course, but we don’t need to get into all that right now. We will become very close, you and I, and there will be plenty of time for more games.” 

Alec felt a small rush of relief at his words. Perhaps he would leave now, leave them alone to regroup back at the Institute and figure out how to deal with this new threat. 

“But I suppose it would be rude of me to leave you without a parting gift.” 

“No, no,” Magnus said. “Don’t go through the trouble. We understand.” 

“You’re funny, Mr. Bane,” he said with an expression that told them he didn’t think Magnus was funny at all. “But I insist. I think you in particular will like this one very much.” 

The man pulled out a gun and pointed it right at Magnus with pinpoint accuracy and aim that even Alec might have been jealous of, if he hadn’t been so terrified. 

Guns were never used by Shadowhunters. Alec hadn’t fired one himself in years. They were mundane weapons, and Shadowhunters tended to show their strength with the skill it took to wield a blade or shoot arrows with precision. Shadowhunters had been around since before guns ever existed, and so the weapon was foreign to them, something they didn’t even think about because it would go against everything they had ever known. 

Alec found himself wishing he had been prepared for something like this. Not that there would be much he could do even if he were, but he knew with his entire being that if he could step in the line of fire to protect Magnus, he would do it in an instant. 

He felt so helpless at that moment, something he never really felt before. 

He didn’t like it. 

He was just about to start begging -- _ Please let us go. Don’t hurt Magnus, I’ll do anything… _

But the shot was fired in the blink of an eye and the vines wrapped around Magnus’s legs uncoiled when the bullet met its mark, letting him fall to the ground with a scream unlike anything Alec had ever heard before. 

His vines disappeared, too, and he rushed to his husband’s side with a shout of his name on his lips. 

When he quickly looked up from where he was crouched over Magnus, the mysterious man was nowhere to be seen. Alec hadn’t really been worried that the man would attack him as well and was much more concerned for Magnus, but it lightened the fear he had that the conflict wasn’t over. 

Which he knew it really wasn’t, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. 

He brought his hands to Magnus’s chest, assessing where the bullet hit. It seemed to have crashed into him around his left shoulder, and Alec thanked the Angel that it hadn’t hit his heart. If Magnus had been injured to the point where he died, that man would suffer consequences even the most vicious of monsters wouldn’t be able to deliver. 

“You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” He took hold of Magnus’s shirt and ripped it open. Magnus was in so much pain that he didn’t even scold Alec for ruining his frilly clothes. The sight that met Alec disturbed him to his core. 

All around the entrance wound, black veins erupted from the injury like the legs of a spider. Blood dripped down his chest and onto the concrete below him. As Magnus gasped for air in between winces, a thought crossed Alec’s mind. 

Why wasn’t Magnus healing himself? 

It was almost as if the warlock had heard this, because he managed to make out the words, “Can’t… heal. Alec, help me.” 

The damage was getting worse with every second Alec looked at it, and it wasn’t until Magnus screamed again that he was spurred into action. 

Pulling out his stele, which he never left home without, he activated his strength rune, making it glow in a golden light. Without wasting any more time, he picked Magnus up, trying not to cause him more pain than necessary and ran. He wouldn’t be able to make it back to the Institute fast enough on foot, so he rushed until he was a few blocks away where there were cars and people around, unlike what they experienced in Time Square. People milling around gave him shocked looks, disturbed by all the blood dripping to the ground, leaving a trail behind Alec as he shot through the crowds. 

When he came across the nearest taxi stopping to pick up a customer on the side of the road, he went to the driver window and said, “Get out,” with so much force that he was surprised the man didn’t automatically flee with no further convincing. The woman he had stopped to help was out of there faster than her feet could carry her. The man just looked shocked. 

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT.” 

The driver stumbled out of the car and was gone. Alec opened the back door with some struggle while holding Magnus, who was barely conscious at this point, and deposited him on the cushioned seat. Alec himself got behind the wheel and sped through traffic and red lights, not really caring if he would be stopped and arrested. 

Everything had to be okay. There was no other option. 


	2. Don't Wake Me Just Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!  
I'm back again, and I loved the wonderful comments some of you left me and I hope you continue to enjoy this story!  
Onward!

Dating a Shadowhunter was a unique experience. There was adventure and exhilaration of course, but there were dangers and risks as well.

Simon never really thought about that part, but he learned quickly that that same danger would forever be a part of his immortal, undead life. Obviously there was a sort of peril that came with being a vampire as well, but he wasn’t a demon hunter. He didn’t put his life on the line like his girlfriend did. And in all honesty, his existence as a vampire wasn’t so different from the life he had when he was human. Except the whole immortality and drinking blood thing.

It wasn’t him he was worried about. Isabelle was the strongest person he knew. She’d been hunting monsters her whole life, so why did he have so much trouble trusting her to look after herself?

The truth was, Simon Lewis never loved anyone the way he loved Isabelle Lightwood.

It was raining in New York when it happened. It was about a week ago, and Simon had been cooking in his apartment. He had been practicing because Izzy was so bad at it and he wanted them to have something nice to eat when they stayed in. Not that Simon had to eat solid food, but Isabelle had thought it was thoughtful for him to try for her.

His phone rang, Izzy’s name, number, and picture coming to life on the screen.

“Izzy, hi! I was just thinking of calling you. I’m just making dinner now, and I really think you will--”

He stopped talking when he heard harsh breathing and he knew Isabelle was struggling, desperate for air.

“Simon… help, please.”

If he still had a heartbeat, it would have been pounding out of his chest.

“Okay. Okay, stay calm. Where are you?”

She breathlessly gave him her location, Simon barely able to make out what she was saying. She was in an alleyway not far from the Institute, and Simon had never been more grateful to be a vampire because his enhanced speed got him to her almost instantly.

She was on the ground with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling without rhythm. Simon got on his knees before her and touched her shoulders.

“I’m here,” he said. “What happened?”

“Someone… I don’t know… had a gun. Simon, I can’t heal. My runes aren’t helping.”

Simon only then caught sight of the wound. It was marring her left shoulder, black veins inching away from the bullet hole as he watched. He had the feeling that if something wasn’t done soon, it would spread and cause more damage.

If Isabelle died….

He had to get her to the Institute.

“I’m gonna help you, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, but we have to get you to a medic.”

She nodded her head with a wince.

Simon put one arm under her knees and the other around her back and lifted her. He could tell she was in a lot of pain, but she was a Lightwood, so she bit back her scream and held on to Simon as best as she could.

Simon’s feet took them to the Institute at the speed of light. Another perk of being a vampire.

He crashed through the doors, screaming for help, Shadowhunters all around staring at their leader dripping blood all over the polished floors.

“Help!” Simon yelled. “Help us!”

Finally the Shadowhunters reacted, their minds finally grasping what was going on and that their leader needed medical attention. Isabelle was led to the infirmary quickly, and as she was put down on one of the beds with white sheets, Simon realized she was no longer conscious.

And that scared him more than anything ever had.

One of the Shadowhunter nurses brought a stele to Isabelle’s healing rune, and although it lit up like they always did when activated, it had no effect whatsoever on her injury. The nurse looked to Simon with concern and confusion.

“It isn’t working,” the young woman said. “I’ve never seen this before.”

“Okay,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “What do we do, then?”

“The bullet needs to be taken out. Did she say what happened to her? Who shot her?”

“She only said that she didn’t see.”

The nurse sighed and looked to be preparing herself for the task before her. “It’s good that she’s unconscious, so she won’t feel any pain at the moment. That will change when I try to take the bullet out if I don’t give her something to keep her asleep.”

“What are you going to give her?”

“Anesthesia. Sometimes the mundane way is the best way.”

She put an IV in Isabelle’s arm, clearly seeing as Simon did that the wound was festering. When it was clear that Izzy wouldn’t be waking up, the nurse brought her tools to the wound and let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s too deep, I won’t be able to reach it without opening it more.” She paused. “Simon, I don’t think you should be here for this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“She’s in good hands. You don’t need to see this.”

“Yes, I do. I won’t just leave her.”

The nurse gave him a look Simon couldn’t quite describe, but returned to her task when she realized that arguing with Simon was wasting precious time.

“If you’re going to stay, you might as well make yourself useful. We’re low on staff at the moment, anyway.”

“How can I help?”

“Hold this cloth and keep the blood under control while I work. Once the bullet is out, you will need to put pressure on the wound so she doesn’t bleed out. Understand?”

Simon only nodded, ready as he would ever be.

But when the nurse started cutting into Isabelle’s flesh, Simon lost some of his nerve. He had seen blood before, of course, but this was different because it was _Isabelle’s _blood, and she was unconscious and vulnerable and so unlike the strong warrior she always was.

She wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Simon, focus.”

He let his thoughts fall away. Isabelle needed him right now. He mopped up the blood until the cloth was saturated with it and he needed to get another one.

The procedure was fast and slow at the same time. Simon didn’t really know how long it lasted, but when it was over and the nurse was stitching Izzy up, she spoke to him.

“You did great, Simon. She’ll be just fine.”

“I’m sorry, I never caught your name.”

“Meredith,” she smiled, then frowned when she looked upon Isabelle once again. “This shouldn’t have happened. In all my years of doing this job, I have never seen a healing rune fail to work.”

“So you have no idea what went wrong?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Isabelle will have to heal the mundane way, which means no work, and no fighting.”

“And lots of ice cream, got it. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Simon, you don’t need to trouble yourself with this. She will be fine healing here at the Institute.”

“Are you kidding? She isn’t a trouble, she’s my girlfriend. Plus, if she were to stay here, it would frustrate her not being able to work. I can take her to my place, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

Meredith smiled a small smile. “It’s up to her, in the end. You’re a good man, Simon Lewis.”

And that’s how they got to where they were now, in Simon’s apartment, with Isabelle healing and ultimately feeling defeated in her inability to fix herself. So, Simon decided to try to find something she was good at. Cooking was out, obviously, so the next option was…

Video games.

Simon looked through his stash of games. Halo and Call of Duty would be too difficult for someone who has never gamed before, and he didn’t think Isabelle was in the mood for guns anyway, so he picked the easiest game he could find.

Mario Kart.

A giraffe could have played better than Isabelle.

“How do I throw my weapons?”

“It’s a banana peel, Iz. Not a weapon.”

“But if I’m using it to crash other players, isn’t it a weapon?”

“Sure. Just press ‘x’.”

“Which button is that?”

“The one with the ‘x’ on it.”

She gave him a sideways glance that was more like a glare.

“I think I’m doing okay for my first time playing.”

“You’re in last place.”

“_It’s my first time playing.”_

“It’s on _easy.”_

Simon was enjoying taunting her so much that he was surprised by her next move.

“Did you just blue shell me?!”

Her face lit up as she passed a player and crossed the finish line.

“I beat that guy!”

Simon didn’t have the heart to tell her that she made seventh place, while he himself had achieved first with little to no effort.

“Let’s play again,” she smiled. Then her phone rang and Alec’s name popped up on the screen. She answered it immediately, knowing that her brother wouldn’t be interrupting her healing time unless something was seriously wrong. Simon seemed to know this, too, because his face lost every drop of mirth.

“Alec.”

Simon tried to listen to what was being said on the other end, but couldn’t quite make it out. All he could gather was that Alec was a bit hysterical, speaking fast and out of breath.

“Yes, of course, we’ll be right there.” She hung up.

“What’s wrong?”

“It happened again. Magnus has been shot.”

  


Alec brought Magnus through the Institute doors in a frenzy, so much like Simon had brought Isabelle only days before, so the Shadowhunters were faster in responding to the situation, realizing what they needed to do. Alec had been the Head of the Institute once, and now he was the Inquisitor, so seeing him so distressed urged them to help quickly, before they even fully processed what was wrong.

Unlike Isabelle, Magnus was still conscious, muttering and occasionally screaming in a language Alec assumed was Indonesian, as he had done before in his times of pain. If Alec could have teleported to the infirmary, he would have, and the trip there on foot seemed to take forever in his desperation.

When he finally laid Magnus down on a bed, Meredith, the head nurse, approached them, taking in the damage and blood. Her face was a mask of shock and concern.

“Alec,” she said slowly, as if trying to put everything together in her mind. “This is the same wound Isabelle had last week.”

Alec practically felt his heart drop to the floor. “I had the feeling.”

He hadn’t been present when Isabelle was brought in, but of course his sister had filled him in on what had happened, describing the veins around the wound and mentioning that she was unable to heal it, just like what Magnus was experiencing now.

Tears were streaming down Magnus’s face, and he was finally silent, as if all the screams he had had been used up. Alec grasped his hand and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, resisting his urge to squeeze because he was afraid that if he did, he would do it too hard, and he didn’t want to cause his husband more discomfort than he already felt.

“Please, do something.”

Meredith nodded. “I said this to Simon, and I’ll say it to you. You don’t need to be here for this.”

“Like hell I don’t. And don’t try to convince me, I’m not leaving.”

She nodded as if she expected this response. “Okay. But if this is anything like what I had to do with Isabelle, you might have a hard time watching this.”

Alec was determined to stay by Magnus and simply hold his hand, but other nurses gently informed him that in order for them to help, he needed to stand back and let them work.

The worst part? Magnus was conscious the entire time, even as they had to cut into him to open the wound to reach the bullet. Meredith had tried to sedate him, but apparently his warlock tolerance to drugs included a tolerance to anesthesia, so even if Meredith gave him enough to drop an elephant, it did absolutely nothing for Magnus.

The extraction seemed to last only a few minutes, but they were the hardest few minutes of his life, including the time he spent by Magnus’s bed waiting for him to wake up when he had his reaction to Lorenzo’s magic. Alec tried to block out the pained noises Magnus was making, wishing it were him instead.

Finally done, Meredith and the others cleaned up the blood as best they could and bandaged Magnus’s shoulder. He was sleeping at last, probably forced to do so from exhaustion. The head nurse came to him, but Alec only noticed when she spoke to him, forcing him to take his eyes off Magnus.

“He will be okay, Alec. But he will have to heal the mundane way. He should avoid using his magic if possible, and his bandages should be changed regularly. I don’t doubt your ability to care for him in the comfort of your own home, but he is welcome to stay here while he heals, if you wish. If you don’t, you call us if anything, and I mean _anything _happens. Okay?”

Alec heard her words, but barely processed them, and he nodded, finally going to Magnus and sitting in the chair by his bed, grasping his hand once again.

This wasn’t meant to happen. Magnus was an all-powerful warlock. He shouldn’t be reduced to healing like a human.

A few minutes passed, or maybe it was a few hours, but Izzy came to him with Simon in tow, and she looked sympathetic, but Alec knew she needed to tell him something. But first, she went to her brother and pulled him into a hug, rubbing a hand in circles on his back comfortingly.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Alec.”

“Me, too,” he all but whispered.

“You know this isn’t a coincidence. Something is coming, something bad. Whoever has the power to create such weapons that even a warlock can’t heal… they are a threat.”

“I know. Iz, you wouldn’t believe this guy. He emptied Time Square, he raised vines from under concrete, and these bullets ...”

“Alec, I know you don’t want to leave his side, but we need you. You saw his face, you can help us ID him. It might take a while to find a specific mundane, but--”

“He wasn’t a mundane. He said he was a Shadowhunter, but better. He didn’t have any runes, so that means--”

“He was deruned. His powers as a Shadowhunter are gone, so he created weapons to hurt us.”

“If we can find him in the database,” Simon said, “we can figure out why he lost his runes, and maybe that will help us stop him, or at least find him.”

Alec looked back at Magnus.

“He’ll be fine, Alec. We can ask Meredith to call us when he wakes up."

Alec let out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s find this asshole.”

The operation center was more crowded than any of them had seen in a long time. Shadowhunters clung to the monitors, searching and failing to discover just how something like this could happen not once, but twice. Alec could see on every one of their faces that they were scared, and Shadowhunters didn’t _get_ scared, not usually.

A few people approached Isabelle to ask how she was doing and tell her they were glad to see her healing so well, but she all but ignored them, her destination set on a computer already occupied like all the others. She gently but firmly told the ones using it to busy themselves elsewhere and got to work.

“I’m pulling up everything we have on deruned Shadowhunters. There have been many over the years, but you mentioned that the man was not much older than you, Alec, so he should be near the top of the list. If you recognize him, stop me.”

With that, she moved from file to file, going through each document they had on those who lost their runes. Their mother, Maryse, was near the top of the list, and others as well that Alec recognized. Most of them were criminals -- old members of the Circle and even some who were caught killing mundanes or breaking the Accords. What he saw from scrolling through their files, Alec’s stomach did flips at the pictures that popped up of their victims.

They searched for longer than any of them thought they would have to, and just when they were thinking that perhaps this man _wasn’t _a deruned Shadowhunter, that maybe he had lied to Alec to mislead them, his picture showed up.

“That’s him,” Alec said, perking up at the first good thing to happen in hours.

Isabelle squinted at the screen in confusion.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Why?”

“Because this isn’t even a man. Look, it says her name is Dawn Dawnrun.”

Simon sputtered the moment the name was spoken. 

“Dawn Dawnrun? That is so--”

Alec gave him a look.

Simon cleared his throat and finished, “--unfortunate.”

Alec looked at the picture. The person looked more feminine than the one he met before, but he was whole-heartedly convinced that this was the same person who shot Magnus. He would never forget that face for as long as he lived.

“Look in her file. It should say why she was deruned.”

Isabelle read with Alec looking over her shoulder at the words as well. Simon felt a little left out, but waited for them to tell him the news.

Isabelle’s eyes widened and Alec let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

“He is a man,” he said to fill Simon in. “He was deruned for being trans.”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, and Alec seemed more deflated than he had a minute before. Simon understood, in a way, that he might feel like that because he knew what it was like to not be seen as “acceptable” to the Clave.

But Alec was different. He rose above that kind of discrimination and is now a leader that any sane person would admire. He was nothing like this man, who resorted to hurting people because he had been wronged.

“Does it say what his name is now? Or does he still just go by ‘Dawn’?”

Isabelle pressed her lips together and read a little more. “Liam,” she said at last. “His name is Liam Dawnrun. His last known residence was at a building in Queens, third floor, room six. I can send you the directions and assemble a team.”

“Great. We need all the help we can get. This man is dangerous, possibly more so than anything we have faced before. Gather all of our best fighters, we’ll need to take him by surprise.”

Isabelle spoke up, “Alec, you’re the definition of ‘best fighter.’ You should go. I’ll stay with Magnus and call you the second he wakes.”

“I’m not going anywhere, as much as I’d like to kill this Liam myself. When I said ‘best fighters,’ I was thinking of Jace. Where is he, anyway?”

  


Jace led Clary through the city, resisting the urge to grab her hand as they walked. He couldn’t do that, not now, not when she didn’t even remember _herself,_ let alone what they once had.

They stopped in front of an abandoned church. Jace looked at her expectantly.

“Why are we here?” Clary asked.

“Just… what do you see?”

“It’s… just a church. Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“Focus. Look harder. What do you see?”

And Clary did look, staring at the building as intently as she could, but nothing changed. She shook her head in frustration.

“Can’t you just tell me what exactly I’m supposed to see?”

Jace took a deep breath, then brought this… wand? Out of his pocket. It was metal, with a tip that appeared to be a crystal, and it looked so, so familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it. She couldn’t place any of this.

She was about to ask another question, but then Jace put the wand to his skin and one of his tattoos lit up. Clary was taken aback, her eyes widened as she took a step away from him.

“What the--?”

But Jace looked into her eyes. “Don’t be scared,” he told her. “There’s nothing to worry about. Take my hand.”

And while Clary was a bit hesitant, part of her trusted this man with her life, thought she didn’t know why. It seemed she didn’t know a lot of things. So she took his offered hand and when she looked again -- actually _looked_ \-- she saw.

The run-down building they were standing at suddenly transformed before her eyes, evolving into the most beautiful structure she had ever seen. She knew this place. She couldn’t _remember_ but she _knew_. This was her home.

“I know this place,” she said. “I need to go inside.”

But Jace stopped her. “Not yet,” he said. “The people who live here… they wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

They were both silent for a moment, Jace clearly thinking of how to respond.

“I need to tell you something. You were right when you said that I know things about you that you don’t.”

“Tell me, please.”

“You might not believe me.”

She smirked that smirk that Jace had come to love so much.

“All the legends are true,” he said.

“Legends? What legends?”

“Oh, you know. Angels, demons, vampires, warlocks, werewolves. The list goes on.”

Clary didn’t even blink.

“You don’t seem very surprised.”

“I’m… not. So, what does that make you?”

Jace braced himself. “I’m a Shadowhunter. I protect the human world from the demon world.”

“And… there are others like you.”

“Yes.”

Her eyes filled with _something_. Recognition, a memory, a glimmer of what she was.

“I’m one of them,” she said, meeting his eyes again. “I’m one of _you._”

Jace couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“I wish I could remember. Why can’t I remember, exactly? What happened to me?”

“It’s a long story. I will fill you in, I promise, but right now, I need to check in with the others.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Like I said, the others -- the Shadowhunters -- they aren’t ready to know you’re back. If they find out too soon… things could end badly. I need to work out a plan first, figure out how to tell them without getting my head chewed off.”

Clary blinked a few times, wondering how she was supposed to just go back to her apartment and pretend this never happened.

“Fine,” she said. “But I want answers, and if you don’t give them to me, I will hunt you down and make you.”

Jace smiled. “That’s the Clary I know.” Then he seemed distracted by something on her neck.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your rune. The first one you ever got, it’s back.”

Clary pulled a handheld mirror from her bag and looked at her reflection. She ran her fingers over the mark, so similar to Jace’s.

“A rune,” she said.

“Yeah, they aren’t tattoos. They give us the powers we need to fight, to do our job.”

Clary shook her head. “This is so overwhelming.”

“I have that effect on most people. But seriously, don’t worry so much. I promise you, everything will be fine.”

“All right. When will I see you again?”

“Soon. Let me walk you home.”

“Why, to protect me from monsters?”

“See? You’re getting it already.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked that!
> 
> And just so you know, there will be more tags added to this story as it progresses, I'm just not putting them for now because 1) I need to think of them because I don't have this fully planned out and 2) because I don't want to spoil some parts of the story for you by putting revealing tags.
> 
> Leave a comment, maybe?
> 
> Blessed be.


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